Harsimran Kaur ON Dec 01, 2023, IN BOOK REVIEW, The Gallery By Manju Kapur/– FICTION
Rating: 4/5
The validity to one’s presumptions is a never-ending pursuit; the black of the charcoal receives an inglorious affection from the skin but as the darkness dispels, the dispirited lines fight vigorously to rill insitu. This rub-off of discoloration finds intrusion in an attempt to find meaning of life; disenchantment forms debilitating debris of dishonor—defying the odds disports the self to a de rigueur of ‘dare & deal’ conclusivity.
For women, adding colors to her life is never easy. The domestic solipsism cavorts indiscernibly, transporting her to a restrained yet indecisive shedding of its essence just like a charcoal. Life is often ‘black’ to her; an unattended mess of coarse rubble—a perfidy to her brightened spirit. She looks at the mirror, all black! She then promises to herself that it’s time to wash it off.
‘The Gallery’ by Manju Kapur paints an impassioned and impressionistic stroke of ‘being relevant’ among the callous and cack-handed. A woman often called a clanger, easily surrounded by obnoxity and always at war with her inner turmoil looks a delight in the aroma of her husband’s embrace. If she were a dish, the conceited sauerkraut makes for a pleasing appearance—so what if the desire to be in harmony with oneself is chopped? Minal, the woman conscientiously alive and broken, in the ‘The Gallery’ has played the dynamics, archetype ; getting married to Alok, bearing a daughter Ellora and exquisitely attending to the ‘drums & beats’ of a woman in charge of her solitude.
Don’t we all label this as privileged domesticity? So, what if the characteristic ability to ‘define’ and ‘desire’ is irrevocably chastened as a tiring complacency?
Minal is however not the reclusive bird laying eggs in an unapproachable nest. She was the incautious and indubitable girl before marriage, a graduate from St’ Stephen’s. She settles for marriage with Alok a lawyer, giving into the importunate cultural incantation. Birth of Ellora leaves her like a stuffing falling out of an old rag doll. Encumbrances follow patterns, isn’t it? Disheveled—discouraged! How long one can prolong the imperturbable existence?
Maitrye comes as a beacon of light—she becomes a caretaker for Ellora. Minal somehow finds relief. The indispensible sight of her girl being looked after a maid pricks like a swollen needle but Minal has to pierce the barriers. The intricacy of ‘Art’ and the fondness of it emboldens Minal to open an ‘Art Gallery’ exhibiting work from artist all over India. She finds relevance in the emotional awestruck vagaries of the catastrophic Nepal Earthquake, the insinuating destruction of the Twin Towers and other complexities of life that the burdened heart can no longer endure.
Does Minal become the artist of her own perfections? Isn’t ‘art’ in its abstract dimension an indulgent passion of finding existential nuances during an impasse? Does the refraction of it helps her grow or is she bruised by the pejorative ambush of discordant colors?
Maitrye in her humdrum existence working at Minal’s house welcomes the compassion shown towards her daughter Tashi. A Nepalese, Maitrye fumbles to speak ‘Hindi’ but in years shows less resistance to the ‘Indian rodomontade’. A woman walking knee to toe with her husband Kisen, her pride to keep her daughter safe yet at par with the educated finds herself fighting smoke and shadows.
Though Ellora and Tashi have nothing in common; class, privilege or social liberties but what makes them equal is Minal’s efficaciousness to eternalize the human bond of graciousness and sensitivity. She lays down a path of empowerment and rectitude not only for herself but
for Tashi and Ellora.
Two women, Minal and Maitrye, aligned in their aspiration to nurture what they are best at goes a long way to corroborate a relationship of more than 20 years of acceptance and forgiveness.
Travelling to cities like Mumbai, Benares and Chandigarh to understand the intellect comprehension of the artist, Minal is able to disinter her inner conscious to reckon what burns inside rather than become rubble under the incandescent virtues. Her ‘galleries’ ricochet the intrepid dominion to extract the part of life that makes ground with the Earth masked by its glory.
TAKE AWAY
Manju Kapur has touched the ‘rich’ ‘poor’ quandary embroiled in a deep schismatic. How hard you try to camoflouge the incessant need to bury the differences but the ‘riot’ of ruthless rapier exists to slit the poor of its existence; an immiscible affair.
‘The Gallery’ is also a story of women irrespective of their social structure reprobated for impropriety and impulsions.
The book speaks to let the unattended dream be a resolute affirmation to slice one’s ego for it to become reality.